* 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

(v i --^KSq. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



S jo 



WHEN CUPID CALLS 



To 
MY MOTHER 




AUTHOR OF 

LOVE 
LAUGHS 
etc 



fCl 



E-R-HERRICK«f(XMP/NV 

70FIFTH4VENUENEWYORK- 



)%^*® s 



c^gyn* 







20::: 



Copyright, 1898, 

By E. R. Her rich & Company 

All Rights Reserved 




LVCWoS O 




The great majority of the verses in this 
volume "were originally printed in "Truth "; 
and to the editors and proprietors of that 
paper the author presents his compliments 
and thanks for their permission to use the 
same. 



New York, September ist, i8qS. 





PREFATORY NOTE 

He who woos with a dash of flippancy is 
ten times more apt to win than his rival, who, 
taking himself too seriously, woos with the air 
of one taking part in a competitive examination . 

So, to a certain extent, is it with books 
and the public. That is the reason why even 
the best dictionary does not become a popular 
cra^e, though it contains all the most beauti- 
ful words in the language. 

The author has been advised often enough 
to take himself more seriously. But he has 
been afraid that, if he did, the public would 
not take him at all. Do not imagine, there- 
fore, that the author could not write a "Para- 
dise Lost" if he really tri'ecl. (It will require 

no use of the imagination.) 

T. H. 



New York, September 1st, i8qS. 




CONTENTS 









PAGE 


Affair, An /j 


After-Dinner Song for Christmas, An 2Q 


At the Tick of the Clock 61 


Awakening, The 






38 


Bells, The .... 






91 


Breath of Spring, A . 






44 


Butternuts .... 






112 


By Her Rival 






78 


Ciratmnavigation, A 






18 


Comi?ionplace Girl, The 






43 


Cttpid's Clerk . 






77 


Debutante, The 






47 


Fact vs. Fancy 






106 


Fin de Saison . 






36 


First Dead, The . 






107 




PAGE 

First and Worst, The .... 114 


Grammatical Questio7i, A 






. 102 


Heart and Hand . 






88 


I11 a Ballroom 








103 


In Bridal Robes . 








55 


In Different Ways 








84 


In Springtime . 








46 


lest We, Too, Forget 








116 


love's Ghost . 








104 


March Wish, A 








56 


May a?id Cupid 








57 


My Fault . 








108 


Necessary Change, A 








$7 


Old love Remembered 








53 


Old Song, The . 








93 


Opportunity, An 








79 


Peerless Maid, A . 








73 


Philosophy . 








34 




Contents 

PAGE 

Poet, The .... . . . 62 

Poker Artists, The . 85 

Predicame?it, A .... 21 

Proposal, A 37 

Query, A 41 

Question, A jj 

Regrets 76 

Rejected Epic, A g^. 

Relief yo 

Reply, A .81 

Revealed 54 

Sir Wood B^s Spree ... ig 

Society Girl, The 101 

Spring Poetry 82 

Street Lamps, The .... 100 

St. Valentine 's Day . ... 17 

Sunset iog 

Surf on the Beach, The . . . 59 

xiii 





Conte7its 

Sweeter Kind, The . 

Theory, A . . 

They Did Not Speak 

Three Contradictions 

Tin-Type, The 

To a Victim 

To Cupid . 

Toast, A 

Two Girls . 

Unforgotten 

Unhappy 

Voyage and Return 

Warning, A 

When In Love 

Which Shall It Be ? 

Who Knows ? 

Wish, A . 

Worse, and More of It 



3i 
64 
25 
45 
32 
68 

98 
52 
72 
40 
66 
in 

49 
63 
42 

39 



WHEN CUPID CALLS 




A MULTIPLICATION TABLE 

WICE as white 

Is your throat to-night 
As feathers from angel 
wings ; 
Three times blue 
Are those eyes that you 
Can use to say such things. 

Four times red 

Are your cheeks, 'tis said, 
As a blood-rose dipped in dew ; 

Five times fair 

Is your wavy hair 
With its delicate golden hue. 

Six times sad, 

Nay, almost mad, 
Are gallants seven times eight ; 

And nine times all 

Are yet to fall 
At your feet and learn their fate. 








So here I sigh, 

As the hours pass by, 

Till the blue hills hide the sun; 
And wonder, Miss, 
Why you cant be this: 

Once, ever and aye, for one! 






THE SENSIBLE VS. THE 
SENTIMENTAL 

HESE poets take their fancy 
far; 
Now I am fond of posies, 
But like your cheeks just 
as they are; 
I would not have them roses. 

If your sweet lips were cherries red, 
There' 'd be a something missing, 

When you and I in love were wed 
And spent our hours in kissing. 

I would not have your eyes twin stars ; 

'Twould take too long a day 
To get to them. Electric cars 

Don't thread the Milky Way. 

Your smile is just like any girl's; 

An angel's we ne'er see. 
And if your teeth were really pearls, 

Around your neck they'd be. 






No dainty and rose-tinted shell 

Can hear by half as far 
As your two ears. So, truth to tell, 

I want you as you are. 





A REPROACH 

O U call it a summer flirta- 
tion, 
This little affair of our 
hearts. 

To you it was exhilaration, 
Some practice, my dear, for your 
arts. 




To you 'tis the joke of a summer, 
A mock imitation of love ; 

And Cupid ' s a mime or a mummer 
To he cast aside like your glove. 

To you 'tis the least of romances; 

To me 'tis the proof of your guile. 
You don't know the power of your 
glances ; 
You don't know the death in your 
smile. 





AN ANALYSIS 

ILIES and old point lace, 
Diamonds set as a star. 
O'er all an angel face — 
My sweet, that's what 
you are. 

Pride of a purse-proud line, 
Kings of the court of gold, 

Deeming themselves, in fine, 
Made from a special mould. 



Soul ? ' Tis a word ttnknown 
To you, as well as them ; 

Heart ? ' Tis a piece of stone 
Not valued as a gem. 

Yes; that is all you are — 
Lilies and old point lace ; 

Diamonds set as a star, 
And o'er all an angel face. 




WAS a Louis Quator^e 
And she was the famed 

Maintenon ; 
And we won our fair share 
of applause, 
For she danced with the grace of 
a fawn. 

And, just like my namesake of old, 
I drew her apart from the rest 

Where the moonlight was turning to 
gold 
The worst of the town and the best. 

And when we came hack, on her face 
Grew a blush that was fair as a rose, 

And a new and more angelic grace 
Seemed to fill the famed Maintenon 
clothes. 



8 




J i®^ 



And I looked like a king, so they said; 

But 'twas more than mere co stu- 
mer's art, 
For she'd given her promise to wed, 

And I knew I was king of her heart. 






ef5?D 




THE REASON 

OU ask me why this rose 
has bloomed? 
Because my lady kissed 
it 
To what sad fate 'twould have been 
doomed 
If her fair lips had missed it ! 

She wears it on her snowy breast — 
A red heart, to my seeming, 

That fills my slumber with unrest — 
The vision of my dreaming. 

It would have been a blighted bud 
If her fair lips had missed it ; 

But it is filled with my heart's blood, 
Because my lady hissed it. 





ISS NANCY, seated on the 
grass, 
Thought she espied Dan 
Cupid; 
And trembled lest the god should 
pass, 
She found her life so stupid. 

The youth came on. He wandered by 

Full merrily a-singing, 
With roguish laughter in his eye, 

His lips mad rhymes a-stringing. 

''Come bach, Dan Cupid; come, you 
must. 

Who are you} " cried Miss Nancy. 
The laughing youth said, "O, I'm just 

A little passing Fancy. ' ' . 




PROOF POSITIVE 




ER cheeks are red, her eyes 
aflame, 
And her lips have a curi- 
ous twist; 
She's hanging her head as though with 
shame, 
And I think that she's been kissed. 

One big puff sleeve is pressed quite 
flat ; 
There's a small red mark on her 
wrist; 
There's a singular tilt to her turban 
hat ; 
And I think that she ' s been kissed. 

So, Cupid, get your ledger and pen, 
And put one more on the list ; 

It's the proper thing to do, sir, when 
Another girl's been kissed. 



'3 





/,V CUPID'S COURT 



E who hesitates is lost. 
Thus the ancient saying 
ran. 
Wandering far or tem- 
pest-tossed, 
Men have learned it to their cost 
Ever since the world began. 



In the Court of Cupid, though, 

Be it light of moon or sun, 
Be the future weal or woe, 
While Sir Plume is bending low, 
She who hesitates is won. 




::^% 



>4 




QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS % 

% 
F ripe red lips were tempt- Ff 

ing, 

And you and she— just 
ti 




Were one armchair pre-empting, 
Pray tell- me wfyat you'd do! 

Your arm would steal around her ; 

You'd whisper, " This is bliss." 
And you would not astound her 

If you should steal a kiss. 

If she were at the portal 

And you were passing through, 
Pray tell me, if you're mortal, 

How you would say, "'Adieu!" 

If she were in the shadow 
And you were at the door, 

You'd he a timid lad, O, 
If you'd not take one more. 



[<5 





A SERENADE 

LOSE not thine eyes in slum- 
ber ; 
The moon ' s above the 
mill, 
And small stars without number 
Are creeping o'er the hill. 

And they are all complaining 
For sight of thy bright eyes ; 

Without it they are waning 
And dying in the skies. 





VALENTINE'S DAY 

Y lady wants a valentine — 
And wants it wondrous 

fair — 
To equal, quite, hei 
divine 
In beauty, and her hair. 

And it must picture roses, red 
As those that paint her lips ; 

And lilies to those roses wed 
From chin to finger-tips. 

But how can I, with faltering verse, 
Do justice to such theme ? 

With stubborn rhyme, with metre worse, 
The task doth hopeless seem. 

But nymphs and graces all attend ; 

What charms can e'er surpass 
Their own reflection ? None ! I'll send 

My love a looking-glass. 




17 




A CIRCUMNAVIGATION 



UT all the world between 
us, ' ' 
Quite vexed, my lady 
cried. 
I did, and a stone Venus 

Exclaimed, "You're side by side/' 





18 




SIR WOOD B.'S SPREE 

' VE been drinking} ' ' Yes, 
I fear it, 
Or it's something very 
near it. 
Say, old chappie, why do women like 
to loiter at the door, 
When a fellow's bent on going, 
And his every action showing 
That he fears her mother's listening 
from the fatal second floor. 

I've been drinking. Yes I own it. 
Faith I own her. Don't condone it. 
I was quite intoxicated. Would that 
answer with the court} 
We were just within the shadow, 
Made by moonlight, soft and sad, O, 
And you know a little gallantry has 
always been my forte. 




>9 





I've been drinking. Not of liquor, 
But of something that goes quicker 
To a dunce's cerebellum and a cow- 
ard's quaking heart. 
' Twas the wine of ruby lips, sir, 
The champagne that Cupid sips, sir; 
And they'll soon announce the wedding 
of Sir Wood B. Bachelor, Bart 






HERE is great news from 
France. 
I can tell at a glance, 
Yes, hoop skirts, my dear, 
will be worn in the dance; 
But pray do you know 
How a latter-day beau 
Can dance with a girl who is hedged 
about so ? 

My Caroline 
In crinoline ? 
O, no! 



With an odor of scent 
And a smile of content 
Each maid will appear like a small 
circus tent. 
Where's an old beau to teach? 
Bring him here, I beseech, 
To explain how you, walt^, with a girl 
you can't reach. 

My Caroline 
In crinoline} 
No. no! 





THE SWEETER KIND 

ESP LEND EN T in her old 
brocade, 

In cosy arm-chair sitting, 
Her Aunt Propriety (old 
maid) 
Is busy with her knitting. 
And Nell is there and I am here — 
What mortal would not wish us 
A decent chance to engineer 
A kiss that's surreptitious? 

We talk of this and laugh at that, 

Just like old-fashioned courting ; 
While back there, where I wish we sat, 

Young Cupid is cavorting. 
Nell's lips are little curves of red 

And oh, they are delicious! 
By ginger! I would risk my head 

For kisses surreptitious ! 



23 




/ rise and take another chair, 

It happens to he nearer ; 
Bui now dear aunty seems to stare 

To make her vision clearer. 
By accident Nell drops her fan, 

And I am quite officious 
Returning it — perhaps I can 

Steal kisses surreptitious. 




But, no! I miss her by an inch! 

Confound such proper spooning ! 
Yet, I remember, at a pinch 

Nell's very good at swooning. 
And swoon she does. While for her salts 

Goes aunty — both malicious — 
We steal three measures of a walt^ 

And hisses surreptitious. 






THE TIN-TYPE 

EN years since we stood there 
together, 
In the country photogra- 
pher's tent; 
Ten years, and I hardly know whether 

To laugh or lament. 
I had then of sweethearts a plenty, 
Though not much of the world had 
I seen, 
For I was a youngster of twenty 
And you were a girl of sixteen. 

In serio-comic flirtation 

We were taken together like this. 
' Twas a freak of two fools in vacation 

To wish a tin-type of a kiss. 
Just a little bit bold, I am thinking ; 

A prank you' d not care to repeat; 
I still see the photographer winking 

As he said, "Well, by Gosh!' I'll 
be beat. 




/ remember I promised that "never — ' ' 

With my hand on my pitiless heart, 
fe Another's bold glances should ever 

Profane this rude sample of art. ' ' 
In a year I'd forgotten about it; 

In two I'd stopped thinking of you. 
Did you care or despair ? Well I 
doubt it; 

And if you shed tears they were few. 

To-day I attended your wedding ; 
'Twas the first time I'd seen you 
in years, 
And if there's to be any shedding 

Of saline and copious tears 
Those tears will be mine. For 'twas 
Venus 
Herself that walked up the broad 
aisle — 
Not you — though there fluttered be- 
tween us 
Just one wan, weird ghost of a 
smile. 







/ blushed more than you did, I own it, 
And my heart shrank with singular 
pain. 
Ah me, if I only had known it 

In time to have won you again ! 
Too late. You had knell at the altar. 
Too late. You had whispered, f 7 
will, 
While I hoped you would faint or 
would falter, 
That there might be a chance for 
me still. 

Ah, I'd take a keen joy now in sending 

This tin-type to him you had wed — 
In Paris you' re quietly spending 

Your honeymoon, so it is said — 
But no ; though it cost me a measure 

Of pain, 'tis the right thing to do, 
Lest it cost you one moment of pleasure, 

I'll send it to you. 




27 





AN AFTER-DINNER SONG FOR 
CHRISTMAS 

ING Ho, for the holly/ 1 
So bright and so jolly ; 
And "Ho, for the ever- 
green clustered about. 
Sing "Ho, for King Christmas," 
From North Pole to Isthmus 
He ' s put all the Care-Devil army to 
rout. 

Sing "Ho, for the wassail,' 1 
Ye gallants a- jostle ; 
And drink to the health of each ruby- 
lipped lass. 
"Sing ho, the Perfecto," 
Havana delecto, 
And take a last sip of the brown 
demi-tasse. 



20 




sing ee Ho the ladies." 
Their short promenade is 
A At end. They are waiting impatiently 
now. 
And all the fair misses, 
With longing for kisses, 
Are crying "Sing Ho, for the mistle- 
toe bough." 





3° 





THEY DID NOT SPEAK 

O jewel crowned her shapely 
head, 
Her hair disclosed no 
flower; 

No palfrey by her hand was led ; 
No gallant sought her bower. 

Her eyes shone not, each like a gem ; 

Her cheeks disclosed no rose ; 
No heavy golden diadem 

Kept sunburn from her nose. 

She was a simple rustic lass 
Who wore nor shoes nor glove — 

And that is why he let her pass 
And never thought of love. 



3< 





TV with the new love, Cupid 

boy, 

Forget the drear, old 

past. 

We want all joy, without alloy. 

And this love not the last. 

A has the love that's seldom seen 
And eke the love incessant. 

Give us the love that's evergreen — 
The love that's a Christmas present. 



32 





HIS question is what I pro- 
pose — 
A piece of learning, 
A knowledge that no 
scholar knows, 
For which I'm yearning. 



(Now you may be well taught and 
learned, 

Still, wisdom bless us!) 
Why is it that when love's returned 

It is most precious ? 







33 





IS the end of our summer 
flirtation, 
You say — this last -walk 
by the sea. 
I, who gave you my soul's adoration, 
May live broken-hearted but free. 

Well, I've heard of such things. But 
at college 

A fellow holds girls rather cheap. 
I fancy the fact is our knowledge 

Is not so confoundedly deep. 

But good-bye. I don't think I have 
blundered 
In telling mamma — she'll explain 
To papa — and he'll send me five 
hundred, 
To get my heart patched up again. 



34 




FIN DE SAISON 




)ere a trifle 



AST spring you 
green, 
A slim young thing, too 
young, too weak; 
But now you're plump as any quean, 
The red of autumn 's tinged your 
cheek. 



There ' s twinkling starlight in your eye, 
And holy lilies on your breast; 

And in your heart a love that I 
Must mention with a mad unrest. 

Last spring you were a modest maid 
In lightest pinks and whites and 
yellows. 

You're now a red-clad romping jade, 
And what is worse, another fellow' s. 



}6 




A PROPOSAL 




that ; 



HEY tell me, Miss, 
you're the girl 
That broke all the hearts 
in Paris; 
That made such a singular social swirl 
And yet found none to marry. 

The Knight, the Baron, My Lord, the 
Duke, 

Were none of them to your liking. 
You gave them all rebuff, rebuke, 

While dancing, driving, biking. 

Well, naught care I for your triumphs 
galore, 

Your dower, or power, or pelf. 
Vm simply a clerk in a dry-goods store 

And I offer you, Miss, myself. 



37 







PON her maiden lips a kiss 
Fell like a flying star ; 
And bliss was added unto 
bliss 

In firmaments afar. 
An angel choir above the mist 

Let their full chorus roll, 
For there -was added to the list 
One more awakened soul. 




3* 





WORSE AND MORE OF IT 

HEN I found out she had 
received 
My rival, I felt churlish, 
And asked her in a lone 
most grieved 
If he had not seemed girlish. 

"Well, not exactly like a girl," 
Thus answered me, my dear one, 

As she brushed back a saucy curl, 
"But he was rather near one." 







ANCY led my soul to-day 
To an island far away 
Where the day was al- 
ways morn, 
Where the year was always spring, 
Where no fearful thought was born 
Of ills that sad to-morrows bring. 

All the land was bright with flowers, 

Time, there, marked no fleeting hours ; 

Sweet music floated on the air 

And banished there were care and 

pain. 

But ah, my sweet, you were not there, 

And Love has led me back again ! 



40 




A QUERY 




E met for some unknown de- 
sign, 
And walked a little while 
together ; 
We drank loves bitter blood-red wine, 
And scorned life's wintry weather. 

To-day the sun is bright and high, 
The flowers are blooming, birds are 
singing ; 

But where are you — and why am I 
Not to your white breast winging ? 



41 





A WISH 

OVE, you are in the sun 
And I am in the snow — 
Though you and I are one 
Where'er we be or go; 
But oh, for the wings to follow 
The southward flight of the swallow 
Swift or slow! 



Love, you are red and warm 
In the tropic's torrid glow, 
While I in northern storm 
Must seek our weal or woe; 
But oh, for the wings to follow 
The southward flight of the swallow, 
Swift or slow! 



42 





COMMONPLACE 



OR you no lily's lustre, 

For you no gorgeous 
For you no brilliant cluster 
Of long-adoring men. 



For you but duty's doing, 
As sister, mother, wife. 

For you but simplest wooing, — 
For you but death and life. 




43 




A BREATH OF SPRING 



^r\ 




HERE stole into my room to- 
day 
A little breath of spring, 
A premonition of the May 
And sweets that May will bring. 

It was a burst of woman's song, 
Eight little bligthesome bars — 

A song that speeds the world along 
Its pathway in the stars. 

It bade my heart be brave and gay, 

It made my soul serene ; 
It spurred me on by labor's way — 

This spring song by my queen. 



44 





TO A VICTIM 

LAD in your lilies and laces, 
Fair as the flower at your 
throat. 
Smiling away all the traces 

Of anguish you felt at his note, 

Who could think your heart was broken} 
Who could see under your smile 

The anguish that lies there unspoken 
While shrewd guessing rivals revile ? 

Ah ! you were the rose of the by-way 
He plucked in an indolent hour, 

To be thrown to the winds on the 
highway 
Where men struggle only for power. 



45 





IN SPRINGTIME 

WA Y go winter snows, 
The bees about the rose, 
The sun and showers 
Are feeding flowers, 
As rare as long ago 's. 

The breath of balmy spring, 

Is over everything, 

And oh, sweetheart 
Would we could part 

From sorrow, wing and wing. 




4 6 





THE DEBUTANTE 

RESH with the glory of an 
opening rose, 
Sweet with faint perfumes, 
like a flowered vale — 
At the first page, intent to read the 
tale 
Of human love in poetry or prose, 
With keen delight and yet with calm 
repose, 
How strong may be your heart and 

ah, how frail ? 
What love can it receive and what 
exhale ? 
Can it survive sore wounds? Alas, 
God knows! 



\i 





Yours, Beauty, is the common fate of 
all, 
To-day an angel robed in spotless 
white ; 
To-morrow all that Eve was at the fall. 
Struggling with us to stumble through 
the night — 
Facing a fate that might a saint appall, 
And dimly dreaming what is wrong 




48 





WHICH SHALL IT BE? 

HE old wind blows to the 
mountain, 
The young wind blows to 
the sea; 
The one loves the old, 
Grim guarders of gold, 
The other loves to be free. 

One flees to its home in the forest, 
Where the night-capped mountains 
sleep ; 
And one loves to sail, 
With the growl of the gale, 
To the fair lands over the deep. 

Ah ! which shall it be with you, my 
heart} — 

Home to your peaceful bed, 
Where the wind's lullaby, 
Like a young mother's sigh, 

Sings low to the sleeping dead? 




49 





Or, fain would you seek, in the storms 
of life, 

Some haven you know not of, 
Where naught shall he wrong 
And the whole world's throng 

Shall dream hut the dreams of love! 







5° 




UNFORGOTTEN 

stars of old! 
Oh, stars of gold, 
What did ye there the cloud 
above ? 
Beyond the cloud, 
Ye wove the shroud, 
The lilac shroud of dying love. 

Oh, nights of old! 

Oh, nights of gold ! 
Oh, nights we never can regret, 

Though love is lost, 

And life star-crossed, 
Oh, star-strewn nights, we'll ne'er 
forget! 




52 




OLD LOVE REMEMBERED 




HE first red leaves of au- 
tumn 
Seem to say that I must go 
From the fields, where I 
have sought them, 
From the flower land to the snow. 

The first cold kiss I gather, 
From your lips of carmine hue, 

Seems to say that you would rather 
I would not pretend to you. 

The first white snow-flake falling 
On the humble daisy's bed 

Seems to say that Love is calling 
From the living to the dead. 



53 





OW in mine ears I heard 
her song. 
Soft on my lips I felt her 
kiss. 

And I had dreamed a whole life long 
Were mine, with happiness like this. 

My dream was one of woman's love, 
Of children laughing at their play ; 

With not one threatening cloud above 
A long, contented, happy day. 

Oh, foolish dream ! Oh, dreaming fool! 

My head I bow — / see the trend 
Of God's stern ways. I've learned the 
rule. 
His voices cry: ct The end — The 
end ! ' ' 



54 





IN BRIDAL ROBES 

HEY clad her in white for 
her life, 
For her life, not her death, 
as a wife — 
And now in that room, 
In that silence of gloom, 
In the white spectral light 
Of the dead moon at night, 
In those robes she lies clad 
Of the bride that I had, 
Of the bride that zvas mine, 
Of the woman divine 
Who in silk and lace dressed, 
To my breast I once pressed — 
Yes, now in the robes that she wore 

when we wed, 
They have dressed her again to be bride 
of the dead. 



55 




FOR the lilting song of the 
lark, 
O for a clear blue shy ; 
O to hear my soul say 
"Hark, 
There is the lark on high!" 

O for an end to the snow and sleet, 
To wind and rain on the roof, 

To the clangor and cries of the city 
street, 
And the haunts of the cloven hoof. 

O for a balmy, breezy day, 

With naught for the ear and eye 

But a lark in a field that is kissed 
by May 
And set hi an aqure sky. 



50 





MAY AND 



AID the maiden of the year, 
Pretty May, 
As she dropped a little tear 
By the way, 
"I'm all sunshine and all flowers, 
Tete-a-tetes in shady bowers, 
Making love in ruined towers 
Every day. 

" I would be the month of deeds, 

Said sweet May, 
"Deeds that all the whole world heeds — 

That I say. 
Then a voice not near nor far, 
Answered : "May, that' s what you are, 
Month of love with flower-decked car 

You shall stay." 



57 




THE SURF ON THE BEACH 



HE lake has its lilies all yel- 
low and white, 
And the stars like gold lily- 
pods dot it at night. 
There's an atmosphere to it of placid 

content, 
And its luring, though languid, is 
always well meant. 

But to tired folks from town, 
Who come hurriedly down, 
There ' s naught in the world half as 

pleasant to each 
As the roar, the retreat, the return, 
and the reach 

Of the surf on the beach. 



n)k 



59 




The brook has a bright merry song 

of its own, 
That it sings all aloud as it springs 

all alone. 
It hears all the secrets of whispering 

trees 
And scatters them broadcast on each 

vagrant breeze. 

But to tired folks from town, 
Who come hurriedly down, 
There's naught in the world half as 

pleasant to each 
As the roar, the retreat, the return, 

and the reach 

Of the surf on the beach. 



Co 




AT THE TICK OF THE CLOCK # 




VERY minute, every minute 
Has the whole of living in it. 

Some one's crying, 
Some one's born. 
Some one's dying, 

Old and worn. 
Some one's laughing, 

Some one's fed. 
Some one's chaffing, 

Some one's dead. 
Some one's hearing 

Love confessed. 
Some one's jeering 

Some one's jest. 
Some one's sorry 

Some one's glad. 
Some one's worry 

Drives him mad. 
Every minute, every minute. 
Has the whole of living in it. 



61 




OU wrought God's secretin 
in a way 
That made men pause and 
wonder ; 
That made frail women kneel and pray; 
That tore slaves' bonds asunder. 



You did your work, Shade of the Past, 
And victim of your glory, 

Unpaid, half fed, but crowned at last 
With wonder at your story. 




62 




WHO KNOWS? 

HEN comes that day of swift 
surprise, 
When Death throws wide 
his bolted bars, 
When night, eternal, blinds our eyes, 
Oh ! shall we still behold the stars ? 






W0T' 



6 3 





THREE CONTRADICTIONS 

NCER TAIN, coy, and hard 
to please 
You may be, Woman, al- 
most ever ; 
But certes in our hours of ease 
You are most passing clever. 

The maxim "Find the woman " seems 
To be a foolish plan in trouble. 

"Get rid of her " a wise man deems 
A better — lest you'd trouble double. 

Out on the poet, ranting fool 

Who could not make his verse read 
truer. 
With Woman, here's the better rule: 
"We first embrace, then pity, then 
endure. 



6 4 




A WARNING 

HERE'S some trouble now 
that's batching, 
And some fun that you 
have missed; 
And I tell yon hissing's catching, 
But, pray, don't he caught when 
kissed. 

There's a dainty little maiden 
Sent to bed by her mamma; 

There's a youth with learning laden 
Who ' s been cuffed by his papa. 

There's a lengthy consultation 
That is held upon their plight, 

And their little osculation 
Has been all the fun to-night. 

It was just behind the curtain 
While the orchestra played low. 

(Of the fact I am most certain. 
For her mother told me so.) 



66 





They had finished then their dancing. 

And he looked so strong and brave, 
And she looked so quite entrancing 

When the little kiss she gave ; 

But right near them were conversing, 

Papa, mamma, unafraid, 
Widow, widower, rehearsing 

The same trick the youngsters played. 

So with double pairs a-matching, 
And with Cupid to assist, 

They can tell you kissing s catching — 
But, pray, don't be caught when 
kissed. 




67 





Y love is a lassie of lovely 

nineteen I 

And I am a bachelor of (^ 

fifty- | 

No handsome young fellow can come (f 
in between, 
For I have been thoughtful and 
thrifty. 
Chorus — 
I'm quite at ease, 
Laugh as you -please — 
I'll warrant I'm proof against death 
or disease. 

She may think I am doomed to an 
earlier grave 
Than she, with her blushes and 
beauty ; 
But I shall continue to scrimp and 
to save, 
I think it a matter of duty. 
Chorus — 



6c 




There's many a widow 
would wed, 
Provided she's loaded with money. 
But I'm not the sort of a chap that 
is hied 
Of his saccharine, succulent honey. 

Chorus — 

So here's to my blushing and blithe- 
some young bride, 
The petulant beauty I hoped for ; 
And here's to the fellow thai she 
cast aside — 
The fellow she would have eloped 
for. 

Chorus — 

I'm quite at ease, 
Laugh as you please — 
/'// warrant I'm proof against death 
or disease. 



6 9 





RELIEF 

T last (thank the Church and 

kind Heaven !) it's Lent. 

My bank account's gone 

and my money all spent 

At last, quite alone, o'er the city I 

roam 
And leave Arabella a-sighing at home. 

Six weeks now to save — nay, I do not 

impute 
Saving souls, but to save for a 

proper Spring suit. 
Six weeks to repent— of some words I 

have spoken. 
Six weeks now to pray — that the bond 

may be broken. 



7 o 




Boy Cupid, Young Dan, I implore 
you, forsooth, 

Attract her young heart to some 
church-going youth. 

There's Just time enough ere the com- 
ing of Spring — 

And suggest — er — ahem — her re- 
turning my ring. 





71 





LD Moneybags is eyeing me 
With apoplectic frown, 
A holiday denying me — 
And my 



town, 



best girl's 



in 



My heart is going pitty-pat 
And bobbing up and down, 

Like any nervous kitty-cat — 
For my best girl's in town. 

And in these credits sad mistakes 
I make, just like a clown. 

With debits I play ducks and drakes- 
For my best girl's in town. 



7- 





A PEERLESS MAID 

ONLY saw her sweet 

hair, 
But still I know no fairer 
maiden 
E'er sat upon a parquet chair, 
With lilies, lace and jewels laden. 

Last night it was, and at the play — 
The first I'd seen in all my life; 

Erstwhile girls' hats were in the way, 
With feathers, birds and ribbons 
rife. 

A tasteful coiffure did she wear ; 

To fellow man she knew her duty. 
I only saw her sweet bach hair, 

But I will swear she was a beauty. 



73 




74 




AN AFFAIR 



^HEIR minds were intent on 
"powder " and "ball/' 
And they made prepara- 
tion with care ; 



Bui never a fear made them shiver 
at all 
Or lifted in terror their hair . 

Were they two duellists waiting the 
fray 
That would send them to Heaven 
or Hades} 
Were they two gallants who thought 
it quite gay 
To go out and fight for the ladies ? 

Were they two rivals with purpose 
confessed — 
Nay j let this surmising stop. 
They were two girls getting skilfully 
dressed 
For the gay season' s most select hop. 




75 




HEN I remember all the 
girls 
That in my life I've kissed, 
And all the opportunities 
For kissing that I've missed, 

It makes my soul feel very sore, 
It fills my heart with pain ; 

I'd never lose a single chance 
If I could live again. 





HEY say there's a servant 
to Cupid, 
Whose duty it is to keep 
track 

Of the number of kisses 
That Misters and Misses 
Are giving each other. Ker-smack ! 

As a dutiful man who is married, 
I think that he ought to find time, 
This keeper of blisses, 

To also watch Mrs. 

You may fit any name to the rhyme. 



: ' f j&~>j 



*?J!, 




77 





HE'S a girl of address — 
(Now my tale is begun) 
She's not happy, I guess, 
But I know her address, 
So I'll have lots of fun. 
She's a girl of a dress, 
For she has only one. 
(Now my tale is quite done.) 






OUNG ladies, when you ^ 
chanced to weep, 
If all the little tears 
Should turn to pearls, now 
would you keep 
Them all, my pretty dears } 

Or would you give them to the man 

You promised to obey ? 
For if you would, all of you can 

Wed me, and weep all day. 





A REPLY 

OU ask me, darling girl, 

if I, 

Should you refuse me, 
Would take some -weapon 
grim and die? 
Well, you amuse me. 

I'd live to learn from Mm you chose, 

That other fellow, 
And from his life, "couleur de rose/' 

Or sickly yellow, 

What mine had been, what I'd have 
done 

Had you been kinder ; 
Had the good parson made us one, 

And love been blinder. 




8i 





OW the gentle Spring bath 
come, 
And the bards begin to 
hum, 

In many metred verse, of " 'trees ' ' and 

"breeze/' 

{Which iv as written in their rooms, 

To make slight financial booms, 

And when rhymes that were more apt 

were "wheeze" and "sneeze.") 

By the grace of patent "powers/' 
We shall hear of "showers,'' "flow- 
ers," "bowers." 
And "heart so true" will still be 
rhymed with "you"; 
"Her blush" will bring a "flush," 
Ex-necessitate "hush" 
And lovers, you can bet, will "coo" 
and "woo/' 



82 





Oh, would some learned sage, 
In a literary rage, 
Change our language so that we could 
have new rhymes! 
3 Twould save full many a life, 
It might make full many a wife, 
And even might reform these awful 
times. 





83 





IN DIFFERENT WAYS 

\HEN Simpkinsduff tried to 
propose 
And prove his love de- 
vout, 
The maiden, Flintley's daughter Rose, 
Most kindly helped him out. 

She whispered "Yes," began to sing 
"I'm thine to all intents," 

And ordered an engagement ring 
From Tiff's at his expense. 

But when he asked her father dear, 

Papa forgot his gout, 
And roughly grabbed him by the ear 

And gruffly "helped him out." 



84 





N a little back room at our 
club 
Most skillfully (ah, there's 
the rub ! ) 
We practise the arts, 
Spades, clubs, diamonds and 
hearts, 
We try to see which we can "draiv." 

With the room in a general hush, 
Sans palette or pencil or brush, 
With a very free "hand" 
And a smile that is bland, 
We try to see what we can "draw." 

Our artists draw curious things — 
Draw "ladies" and "bullets" and 
"kings." 
And, sometimes, to "bluff" 
We pile up the "stuff ' ' 
When we've failed to improve in the 
"draw." 



W 



H 








% Most inquisitive artists are we, 
g And often pay dearly to "see" 
What we wish we had not, 
When we're lacking a spot 
In the thing we've attempted to •" 
"draw." 



And sometimes we go home " dead 
broke, ' ' 

Or put our repeater in "soak." 
And sometimes, also, 
We take all the "dough," 

And then upon "velvet" we "draw." 




86 





HAT is home without a 
mother ? ' ' 
Tear the dear old motto 
down ; 

In its place hang quite another, 
Stitched in worsted, framed in 
brown. 

There's another woman — dearer, 
Harder far to keep and please ; 

And some day that's coming nearer 
We'll adore her on our knees. 

While sobs choke your epiglottis, 
Far the dear old legend hurl ; 

Hang another, namely: "What is 
Home without a servant girl} " 



87 




HAD a friend, a dear good \ 
friend, 
Who owned a clothing 
store. 
I chose a suit and said, "Please send 

The same and charge my. score. ' ' 
He answered, "Ah; I understand;" 

I turned then to depart, 
When he gave me a grip of his large 
glad hand 
And— showed me the marble heart. 

An actor owed me dollars ten, 

And I had been broke a week. 
The ghost had walked for him just 
then — 

Just as I chanced to speak 
Of my poverty, in a tone most bland, 

With some praises of his art ; 
The actor gave me the large glad hand 

And showed me the marble heart. 



88 




/ loved a girl with cheeks of pink ; 

She wore my diamond ring. 
And oh, she loved me !—I don t think — ft 

And never did a thing 
To me, when I proposed so grand, 

But say that we must pari. 
She wouldn't give me her small glad 
hand,- 

But she showed me the matble heart. 



^ 






THE BELLS 

(A bridged and amended.) 

EAR the sledges with 
bells, 

Silver bells, 
About which Mr. Poe so 
gaily tells. 
I could curse their tinkle, tinkle, 

In the icy air of night, 
For my heart they oversprinkle 
With the chilliness of spite ; 
For Augustus Montmorency Clifford 

Havemeyer White 
Has had the gall to take my girl to 
ride with him to-night. 



91 






Oh, Augustus, if I had you where the 

hair is rather short, 
Montmorency, if I had you thus there' d 

be a legal tort ; 
Oh, Clifford, if I caught you in some 

dark and lonely place, 
Then, Havemeyer, you'd be the last 

of all your lordly race ? 
I'd draw my trusty cutter, and. I'd 

give my vengeance rein, 
And they'd catalogue your carcass, 

White, among the unknown slain ! 




\ i 



92 




That caused your tears to flow. 
But I still will sing the old song- 

Though it may cause you pain- 
I still will sing the old song: 

Will you lend a V again ? 






A REJECTED EPIC 

THE CHAUNCIAD 

{Offered by the Shade of A lexander Pope to the New 

York "Herald'" i?i competition for Si, 000 Prize.) 

ELOPED Muse, rise glori- 
ous to my theme, 
That I thereby may win 
tV " Her 'Id's" esteem. 
I do not seek the length of largest tome, 
I merely wish to write a narrative 

pome. 
Give me your guide, nor reck me real 

renown, 
I seek to sing great Chauncey of our 

town. 
I plead to praise our undeterminate 

Doc, 
Who wins his way with after-dinner 

talk ; 
The greatest of our ultra pop 'lar men — 
Some angel guide the labor of my pen ! 



94 




Once was he born, and born while yet 
a lad, 

Nor did he die, else had been mortals 
sad. 

He lived a lusty lunged and lordly 
boy, 

His comrades' chieftain and his par- 
ents' joy. 

He played with girls, but eke a bach 
remained, 

Of purpose upright and esteem un- 
stained. 

He grew apace as he ate pies apiece 

And learned the lays of regal Rome 
and Greece. 



To college went he in his later 'teens, 
A youth of plenty 'midst sophomoric 

scenes, 
Though he did Keep his scudi safe 

and sound, 
And 'gan, through learning, to be 

most renowned. 



95 




Drank he the pristine, pure, Pierian 
spring, 

Yet made reft rafters with his laugh- 
ter ring. 

Eke he began to jolly fellow-men, 

As Hood did melancholy with his pen. 

At length he took his coveted degree . 

And went forth in the world an LL.D. 

Prepared now for prosperous busi- 
ness life, 

He sailed with silly sallies to the 
strife ; 

Plebeians laughed, prcetorians guf- 
fawed, 

And ever after all of us hee-hawed. 

He cultivated an extensive smile 

That reached from end to end a half- 
a-mile ; 

Became in time, without suspic'n of 
guilt, 

The pres 'dent of the lines that Zan- 
der built ; 



96 




, And ever since has speaked and 
spoked and speecbed 
On all occasions when the eagle 
screeched ; 
(I And always when old Eli's sons give 
meals 
We hear his version of their woes 
and weals ! 

To-day, admiring all intent are bent 

On making him our next new presi- 
dent. 

Some there may be who scoff at him 
and laugh, 

And fill their journals with cheap, 
churlish chaff. 

But most are people who prefer their 
fawncies — 

Elect or e'en eject, they'll take their 
Chauncies. 




97 




AID one girl to another, 
"Poob! you are tailor- 
made. 
And likewise is your 
mother 
In all her silks arrayed. 

"Perhaps," replied the latter, 
With a cutting little smile, 

"You were fashioned by a hatter, — 
You're a stove-pipe as to style." 



98 



THE STREET LAMPS 




HE stars are in the streets 
to-night, 
The rain is on the roof ; 
And, galloping in height of 
might, 
The wind is on the hoof. 

The stars are in the streets to-night ; 

But they're not stars of love ; 
And they'll not guide the sinner right, 

Like God's own stars above. 

The stars are in the streets to-night, 
The clouds above are black; 

But wait, the stars of God so bright 
Will surely all come back. 





N Winter she is 
As the snow, 
For she's ever, without fail, 
On the go. 
For the dinners and the dance 
Steal the glitter from her glance, 
And leave her with a visage full 
of woe. 



But the Summer and the Fall 

Bring a change, 
That is wonderful, that's all, 

And quite strange. 
Then her cheeks take ruddy tints, 
In her eye a diamond glints, 

And her laugh is happiness 
throughout its range. 



IOI 





^A GRAMMATICAL QUESTION 

THERE is something amiss 
With the grammar of kiss. 
The fact I proclaim from 
the house-top. ' Tis this : 
A word-slinging cuss 
Says a kiss is a "buss. ,J 
Now a question I twist — 

Quite sincerely, I trust — 

When a girl has been kissed, 

Has she also been bust? 







J A i 



EN have come here from the 
strife of the "street/' 
To kneel at your feet. 



Men have come here from the strug- 
gle for place, 
To ga%e at your face. 

Men have come here — ah yes, thou- 
sands of miles, 
For one of your smiles. 

Men have come here at their own 

dearest choice, 
To list to your voice. 

Men have come here for their lesson 

in woe, 
To hear you say "No." 

Is there one here — may I hazard a 

guess — 
Who shall hear you say (f Yes ' ' ? 




103 




OU may sneer at thought 
of spirit, 
Or of ghost, or aught 
that's near it, 
But I fear it — ah, I fear it, 

And it haunts me everywhere. 
See — those eyes awake with wonder 
As her heart first learned its blunder 
And we tore our souls asunder — 
See the long dishevelled hair. 



* Tis the ghost of love that haunts me, 
' Tis her mocking smile that taunts me, 
'Tis her look of hate that daunts me, 

' Tis the ghost of love that's dead. 
'Nevermore shall I behold her, 
Or in timid arms enfold her, 
Or, with rapture growing bolder, 

Rain my kisses on her head. 



104 



For this ghost it is of my love, 
And she cannot hear my cry : "Love, 
Still be with me till we die, Love ! * ' 

Though her love is living still. 
She has only locked and chained it; 
Into silence she has trained it 
Till the world thinks she disdained it, 

And applauds her woman's will. 



I 



i $ 



io 5 





FACT VS. FANCY 

HA T, tell me the rivers come 
from the rain ? 
There isn't rain enough. 
Tell me they come with that \ 



soft refrain 
From that glacial powder puff? 

Nonsense; rivers are angels' tears 

Shed at the sins of man. 
{Millions a minute, the preacher 
fears,) 
But he can't count them up — who 
can ? 

So, let us wait on the sea-washed sand 
Till the dim dusk flees to the light; 

Then we shall hear the sobs of the hand 
Of angels who weep at night. 






THE FIRST DEAD 

NTO the pearly mists 
space 
The first dead sought 
way ; 
And, coming upon the Master ' s face, 
Knelt down, abashed, to pray. 

"Rise up, ' ' the Master quickly spake, 
" World-child, and the world's 
first slain, 

And tell me : if you had choice to take, 
Say, would you live again ? J ' 

Eagerly answered the first wan shade: 
"Joy have I known and pain ; 

But life is heaven — when so it's made. 
Yes, I would live again. ' ' 

"And what would you be, ' ' the Mas- 
ter cried, 
"Child, man, or maid, or wife} " 
"Anything," answered the first who 
died, 
" So I may have sweet life. " 




107 





MY FAULT 

LOVED a sweet and win- 
some maid 
Of very high degree, 
And unto Cupid oft I 
prayed 
To win the maid for me. 

He failed ; I found him in his lair, 

Asleep, with idle how. 
"You la^y scamp," I cried, "I swear 

You aim too high or low. 



You aim, I fancy, at her feet, 

Or yet up to the sky. ' ' 
Said Cupid, with reply most neat, 

<( 'Tis you that aim too high." 



10S 




O, the sun lies down to rest 
In his bed — 
In his pillows, all like 
billows 
Turned to red. 
And his arms, like pinkish bars, 
Seem to reach up to the stars, 
And to light them ere the West 
Hides his head. 



® 







- 






I09 




WHEN IN LOVE 



W love it would be very 

veil; 
We do attest and eke 
agree us, 
If we could tut forget oursel' 

And "See oursel' s as itbers see 
us. " 




But it is well; and none say nay, 
In love — oh yes, 'tis very well — 

That others, when they glance our way, 
Don't see us as we "see oursel'." 





BUTTERNUTS 

SING of the nut that is 

King of them all, 
And the tree that it grows 
on, so stately and tall. 
Let its fame he revered, let its name 
be renowned: 

Butternuts! 
Better nuts 
Never were found. 

They're hardest to crack, 

And they're hardest to pick. 
Your fingers get black — 
Eat too many, you're sick. 
They 're ragged and rough, and they're 
not very round: 

Butternuts ! 
Better nuts 
Never were found. 




Their meat is the whitest; 

Their flavor's divine, 
Their kernel's the lightest 
E'er washed down by wine. 
% Ah, Butternut, you shall be King of 
Nuts crowned: 

Butternuts ! 
Better nuts 
Never were found. 




\P 



*3 





THE FIRST AND WORST 

DAM, in but one sense Eve 
tempted thee: 
Her very innocence begat 
desire, 

Thine infamous flames fanned into 
furious fire 
That frightened her, and made her 

fear to see. 
Eve was no temptress, for she could 
not be, 
Save she was beautiful, with 

beauty dire, 
And innocent at Innocence's pyre, 
And fled thee not when God pro- 
claimed His ire. 



114 




Oh coward father, first and worst 
of all! 
Oh liar, see the crop sprung from 
thy seed! 
And then behold mans heraldry 
of shame! 
Yea, till to-day, thy sons repeat the 
call 
Of shame on Eve, guiltless of the 
deed, 
And give all honor to thy cursed 
name. 







LEST WE, TOO, FORGET 

YE, let our eagle soar on 
high 
And scream exultant 
there — 

The monarch of the Western sky, 
The emperor of the air. 

Let him have liberty to roam 
North, South, and East or West ; 

But let him not forget that home 
Is the first place and best. 

Let him exultant be and proud ; 

But, as he wings his way, 
Let him forget, above the cloud, 

That he is a bird of prey. 




116 





A THEORY 

ISE man, tell me, what are 
the stars } 
Now, none of your science 
bluster. 

I want the knowledge that breaks the 
bars, 
Walks in and picks a cluster. 

What! You don't know} Then I'll 
tell you, 
If you'll bend your head and listen: 
They're the souls of the dead. You've 
lost a few ; 
I can see your old eyes glisten. 

All through the night they watch the 

world, 

For the night is when we need them; 

All through the day in their beds 

they're curled ; 

(But I wonder when they feed them) . 






<s^ 



Yes, they are the millions and billions 
of dead 
That tired old Charon has ferried. 
And that one there, with the curly 
head, 
Is the babe last week I buried. 





119 



